Authors Note: Hi all! Aside from stating that all the wonderful and familiar people, places, and things in this story do not belong to me, I should also mention one small thing about the original characters. The McGonagall brothers were included in a story I started a VERY long time ago called And Only Time Will Tell - I think the story actually pre-dates GoF! It's still floating around FF.N somewhere, but I'm not sure how many people have actually seen/read it recently. I know at least one person has because she was sweet enough to email me and convince me to ressurect my story/idea from the land of the dead! Crookykanks, I know this is slightly different than the other story, but I hope you enjoy it! Anyway, hope you all enjoy! -

Children of the Revolution

December, 1942

Albus Dumbledore crunched his way through freshly fallen snow towards the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Though it was still only mid afternoon, the December sky was already taking on the purple glow of approaching twilight. Dumbledore's breath rose in gentle, frosty puffs as he crossed the lawn, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his heavy, crimson winter cloak. He inhaled deeply the smell of winter - the cold, sharp scent of impending snow and the earthy dampness of the forest that lay beyond the frozen lake. With daylight fading and the thermometer plunging well below freezing, the deputy headmaster walked quickly towards the seemingly abandoned Quidditch stands, ignoring the urge to pause and enjoy the winter stillness and peaceful silence of the snow covered grounds.
As any seasoned member of the Hogwarts staff could tell you, moments of total, unbroken quiet were a rare occasion at the largest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of Britain. Albus Dumbledore, whose thickly graying auburn beard spoke of many years in the teaching profession, did not particularly relish the blanket of silence that fell over the school during its empty holiday months. For him, Hogwarts was at its best when it was filled with children - the nosier and more rambunctious the better. And while he had joined the other members of staff for a celebratory toast as the last students rattled off down the drive towards Hogsmeade Station earlier that afternoon, he felt rather gloomy knowing that Griffindor Tower was now quite abandoned. It seemed most students had chosen to spend the holidays at home this year, and Dumbledore certainly could not blame them. With Muggle Europe still entrenched in a great World War, and the widening threats of Grindelwald's followers reaching almost every wizarding community in Britain, overwhelming suspicion and fear was unspoken but felt by all.
With the castle all but empty and the world in a state of general unrest, Headmaster Armando Dippet had given the staff leave for the holidays, encouraging them to spend Christmas with friends and family. Dumbledore had made absolutely sure that the Headmaster would not need his assistance in the coming weeks before securing his holiday plans. His would be a working break, for Dumbledore had perhaps a greater understanding of the dark times ahead than anyone else in the wizarding world. If he was at all worried about the tasks which lay ahead, however, he did not show it. Instead, Dumbledore strolled briskly under the arches of the Quidditch stands and onto the frozen pitch, his blue eyes trained on the sky above the stadium and twinkling brilliantly as a small grin crept to his lips.
Not all of the Hogwarts students had left for the holidays, at least not quite yet. Two figures sailed high above the Quidditch green, appearing as little more than dueling blurs of scarlet and emerald against the steal gray winter sky. On the far side of the stadium, in the faculty box, a cluster of boys hung over the railing shouting and cat-calling the figures above.
"Oi! Would one of you bloody score already?"
"80-80 . . come on, Malcolm, get a move on!"
"Watch it - watch it -"
Hovering above the far goal posts, the figure in red slowed slightly. Dumbledore recognized the lean, angular build of Malcolm McGonagall, Giffindor 6th year and Chaser for the House Quidditch team. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the wind as he squared himself in front of the goal, suddenly on the defensive. Halfway across the pitch, the slightly smaller shape of his twin sister and fellow Chaser, Minerva, whizzed towards him with a battered practice Quaffle tucked under one arm, dodging invisible opponents and Bludgers as she bore down on her brother. Dumbledore could only marvel at her speed - even in the raw, blustery cold of December twilight, Minerva McGonagall was an unstoppable force, an emerald green streak dipping and diving against the clouds. Whether she was mimicking the conditions of an actual game or simply trying to confuse her opponent with her lightening paced flying, Dumbledore chuckled gently at her efforts. He'd known Minerva since the day she was born - long enough to know that she put absolute skill and unquestioning perfection into everything she did, even if it was only an informal Quidditch scrimmage with her brother. Her twin, however, was usually only a step behind his sister's overzealous achievements, and Dumbledore could see now, as Malcolm leaned forward on his broom, that he was as dedicated to this battle as she was.
In the box, the 5 other McGonagall boys urged their siblings on.
"All right, Min - knock him off his broom!" shouted Tully, the youngest member of the family who Dumbledore knew as a kind and eager Griffindor first year.
"Stuff it, Tull - my money's on Malcolm. Do you hear me, you great stupid twit?! Don't let her score!" boomed Adian, a tall and brassy 4th year.
Neither Malcolm nor Minerva gave any response to the commentary from below. After training and playing together on the Griffindor team for the past 3 years, the twins knew each other's strengths and weaknesses inside and out. It was their ability to work as a nearly seamless duo - along with the equally skillful support of friend and fellow 6th year Chaser Ian Kensington - that made up the infamous Griffindor Dream Team. The three of them had managed to score over 3,000 points for Griffindor this season and were largely responsible for the team's current undefeated status.
Malcolm seemed to feel that his sister was now dragging out her advance. He remained hovering in midair, waiting for her strike, but Minerva was now executing a complex series of loop-de-loops 30 feet above him. In an effort to provoke her attack, he took up his own taunting.
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!" he called under his breath, but certainly loud enough for both Dumbledore and Minerva to hear. Dumbledore laughed openly at his boldness, understanding immediately the origin of this taunt. Minerva, however, was less amused. She stopped dead mid-loop and reversed into a sharp dive towards the goal. A whoop went up from the group in the stands.
Minerva flew directly at Malcolm without slowing her pace, and for a moment, it looked as though the two might collide. At the last second, however, she pulled up sharply from the dive, towards the highest goal hoop. Malcolm moved to follow her when, suddenly, she plummeted into an even steeper dive, towards the bottom goal. Malcolm quickly reversed direction to follow her move, but he was not quite quick enough. The quaffle grazed his fingertips before whizzing passed him and through the hoop.
"Malcolm don't you ever taunt me again!!" Minerva crowed, circling the goal posts in a victory lap. Dispite their original support for Malcolm, the other McGonagall children were now cheering openly for their sister.
"A Wronski Feint-nose dive! That was unbelievable!" whistled Sloane, a skinny, freckled 3rd year.
"Min, you have to use that one next month when we play Slytherin. They'll drop their teeth!" laughed Gregory, a burly 5th year who was the 2nd oldest in the McGonagall clan after the twins. Minerva now circled back to hover in front of her twin.
"Well?" she asked him, her voice raspy but triumphant, "Did I manage that one all right?"
"You did it perfectly, you bloody hag!" Malcolm moaned, sinking slowly back towards earth. Minerva's laughter rang across the pitch, gentle and musical and genuinely delighted.
"I'll still give you the credit for inventing that maneuver, brother dear. Even if I can do it better than you!" she sighed happily, following him down to the snowy pitch.
"Hey! It's Dumbledore!" shouted Bowen, an always energetic 2nd year. "Hey Professor, did you see Minerva's flying?"
Now seven pairs of eyes suddenly turned to the man who had, until now, stood unnoticed in the shadows of the stadium bleachers. Dumbledore smiled at the young boy's greeting, and stepped forward into the center of the green.
"I did indeed see Minerva's most excellent flying, Bowen!" he called jovially across the pitch. "And I must say, it made me wish we were playing that highly anticipated Slytherin match tomorrow!"
"Well I don't!" Tully shouted back. "Tomorrow's Christmas! When are we leaving, Dumbledore?"
"Why don't you 5 come down here, and we shall discuss our travel plans," Dumbledore replied, and the 5 boys immediately scrambled towards the box stairs.
Minerva and Malcolm, who had landed and finally dismounted their brooms, stomped across the snowy ground to join their professor. Their cheeks were rosy and Malcolm's hair was blown into a mass of untamed cowlicks. Minerva's nose was red from the cold and she sniffed sharply as Dumbledore greeted her with a humbled bow.
"Well done, Miss McGonagall," he said with mock formality. She dropped a polite little curtsey in response. Malcolm rolled his eyes and ran his hand absently over his wild hair.
"We sent our trunks ahead earlier this afternoon, Professor," he explained, "But we thought we'd wait and walk back with you."
"A most kind gesture, Malcolm. I thank you."
The boys were now racing across the pitch towards them as well, and Minerva shoved her broomstick into Malcolm's hands and stooped to tie her bootlace. Malcolm, accepting her broom with a sigh of exasperation, greeted his breathless brothers with a sarcastic grin.
"Ooo - was that a bit of a run for you lot?" he mocked.
"Shove off, Malcolm," said Sloane brightly. "So it is true, Professor? You're spending Christmas at Hogsmoor with us?"
"If you'll have me," Dumbledore replied with a wink.
The three younger boys gave a great cheer, while the older children simply beamed at their professor. After all, not everyone was lucky enough to have Professor Albus Dumbledore, Griffindor Head and Transfiguration master - and perhaps the most brilliant wizard alive - come to stay at their house over the holidays. Because Albus Dumbledore was a dear old friend of the McGonagall clan, the invitation was extended every year for him to spend Christmas at the McGonagall homestead just outside Hogsmeade. This was the first year any of the children could remember that Dumbledore had accepted their parents invitation - and while the prospect of having the Professor to visit was vastly exciting, it also made them feel slightly shy.
"I think we'd better be on our way," Dumbledore said, over the excited chattering of the younger children. "Darkness will be upon us before we know it! What say you all? To Hogsmoor?"
"To Hogsmoor!" was their delighted response. Dumbledore did a jolly about-face on the heel of his boot, offered his arm to a shivery but pleased Minerva, and led the merry group back across the Hogwarts grounds and down the road towards home.
"Rudolph, the red nosed hippogriff, had a very shiny nose . . ." Tully began singing loudly at the top of his voice. The other boys groaned, but soon joined the song in spite of themselves, trying to drown one another out.
"Wait a minute Min, I'm stilling carrying your broom!" Malcolm shouted over the song at one point, but Minerva simply lifted her voice louder and ignored him. As they passed the cheery lighted windows of Honeydukes candy store, a light snow began to fall. People bustling through the village streets with parcels and last-minute shopping smiled and shook their heads at the boisterous McGonagall boys, along with their sister and - why, was that Albus Dumbledore throwing snowballs as the children raced ahead up the lane?
In their wake, a peaceful Christmas Eve descended, like the falling snow, over the village and the school beyond. A sweet, final moment of calm before the storm.

Author again . . . So there ya have it - just a little beginning to get the ball rolling! Any and all questions, comments, suggestions, angry hate-mail, etc is welcomed and appreciated! Tehe!! Also, I am in DESPERATE NEED OF A BETA READER! If anyone would be willing to help me out and show me the fanfic ropes (its been awhile) - I'd love you forever and send you many nice presents! Muah! - me (again)